


The Difference Between Kindness And Hatred

by TheWeepingMonk



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Another Fic I Wrote Out Of Nowhere, Bathing/Washing, Discussions of sexuality, First Kiss, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Maybe A Hint Of Oral Fixation And Touch As A Love Language, One Shot, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeepingMonk/pseuds/TheWeepingMonk
Summary: Gawain had called him brother, had offered him a place among his own kind, and had called him a warrior, not a weapon as Father Carden always had. Now he was Lancelot's dearest friend aside from Percival, and again he made Lancelot question himself.
Relationships: Gawain | The Green Knight/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	The Difference Between Kindness And Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this instead of finishing a prompt i have 98% done and im upset with myself asffjdjdjd
> 
> anyways unbeta'd bc we live with our mistakes around here ig.

Lancelot can't seem to move his eyes from Gawain as he bathes only a foot away, the muscles in his back flexing as he washes his chest. Heat pools low in his belly as Gawain stands at his full height, the top of his ass peaking above the water. 

He swallows thickly, fully aware of what he's feeling, and wholly unaccustomed to it. He spent all of his formative years under Father Carden's thumb, getting many things ingrained into him including the sin of sex outside of marriage, sex with other men, and the importance of celibacy for the righteous. But now, a year after he walked away from all he's ever known, he can't help but feel desire for the first person to make him question everything.

Gawain had called him brother, had offered him a place among his own kind, and had called him a warrior, not a weapon as Father Carden always had. Now he was Lancelot's dearest friend aside from Percival, and again he made Lancelot question himself.

Gawain catches him staring, and he looks away quickly, wiping a wet hand over his face. He can sense Gawain getting closer, and does his best to act unaffected. This wasn't the first time he's been caught staring recently and he's afraid Gawain won't let him get away with it this time. 

"You don't have to look away," Gawain tells him gently.

Lancelot keeps his gazed fixed on his own hands as he washes dirt off his midriff. "I happened to glance over is all," he lies.

Gawain huffs. "Once I could believe, but this is the fourth time I've caught you staring this week."

Lancelot burns with embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gawain is quiet a moment then he says, "There's nothing wrong with the way you look at me, Lancelot."

Lancelot stills. Some part of him wants to scream _but there is! There is!_ And some part of him wants to find comfort in the words instead. Neither part wins and he says nothing.

"God created us in his image and he instilled us with a great capacity for love in whatever form it takes." Gawain continues, voice steady and gentle as if he was trying not to spook a wild animal. "Some men love women, and some men love men, and some love all and there's nothing wrong with any of it. There is no sin in love only judgement from those who have never fully understood it."

Lancelot glances at him then, noting the vulnerability in Gawain's expression, and he feels his embarrassment start to fade. "Which kind of man are you?" He questions quietly.

Gawain looks terrified as he answers. "I've...I've never said it aloud before but I...I'm a man who soley loves men."

Lancelot feels a rush of excitement sweep through him followed closely by a wave of uncertainty. He turns to face Gawain fully, his lower half barely covered by the water - something he only registers by the way Gawain's eyes dip briefly. 

"Which are you?" Gawain asks.

Lancelot hesitates to answer. He's never felt attraction like this before and can't say it's exclusively for men. "I'm not sure," he answers honestly. 

Gawain nods, taking a step towards him. "You don't have to know yet. The only thing that matters in this moment is if you want me the same way that I want you."

Lancelot nods slowly, afraid to actually say it. "But I'm not comfortable with it...I don't know how to express it."

"When you look at me like this, what do you want to do?"

He swallows nervously before answering. "Touch you."

Gawain reaches forward, taking his hand and lifting it in the air between them. "Touch me where?"

Lancelot's breath catches, arousal flaring up once more at all the possibilities. "Your face."

Gawain guides his hand to his face, pressing his cheek against it and moving his grip to Lancelot's wrist. 

Lancelot strokes his cheek with his thumb, fascinated by how soft the skin was compared to his calloused hand. He moves his hand so his knuckles brush against Gawain's cheek, wanting to know how it felt to express the soft affections he witnesses between his allies daily. Gawain smiles at him then kisses his knuckles, and his stomach does a flip. 

Lancelot flushes, and trails his finger down Gawain's cheek to touch his lips. It stirs something in him to feel them so he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, dragging it down as he goes. 

"Do you want to kiss me?" Gawain asks.

Lancelot looks up from his mouth, nerves returning tenfold. "Not yet," he answers. 

Gawain nods. "Take your time."

Lancelot drops his gaze again, and though he wants to spend more time on Gawain's mouth he says, "Your chest."

Gawain guides his hand down, pressing it to the center of his chest and keeping a loose grip on his wrist. He spreads his fingers out and trails them over his bare chest, across his nipples, then down to his stomach, tracing the scars he finds with thumb. Gawain's skin was warm and soft, with an underlying hardness to it that betrayed his true strength. 

Lancelot's fingers brush the skin underneath Gawain's bellybutton, thinking of going further down, and his breath catches, cock hardening sharply. Unbidden, a memory of Father Carden catching him with his hand under his robes when he was barely thirteen and whipping him for all the other Paladins to see springs to mind. His hand starts to shake, a sick feeling prickling his skin and telling him he was going to get hurt if he went any further. 

Gawain's hand slides up to squeeze his, and he looks up, memory fading. "You're safe with me always," he says. "And you only have to touch what you're ready to touch."

Lancelot stares a moment, allowing himself some time to recover before he nods. He wanted this and it might be difficult allowing himself to have it, but he wanted to try. "Bum."

Gawain chuckles and presses his hand against his stomach, dragging it across his hip and around to his ass. He steps closer, their bodies almost touching, and Lancelot's finds his gaze on Gawain's lips once more, his own tingling with imagined sensation. 

Gawain drops his grip completely this time, instead choosing to drag his knuckles across Lancelot's cheek. He nuzzles into it, and Gawain keeps his knuckles pressed there. 

Lancelot kneads at the smooth skin in his hand, squeezing roughly and making Gawain jerk forward, his erection poking at his thigh underwater. He feels Gawain move back and he boldly presses forward, his own cock resting against Gawain's thigh. 

Gawain makes a soft noise, his lips parting a fraction and Lancelot can't resist the urge to kiss him any longer. He surges forward, planting a soft peck to Gawain's lips, then kissing him more firmly once he's sure he's got the right angle. Gawain responds eagerly, his hand unfurling to cup his cheek and pull him closer.

Lancelot massages his ass with one hand, his other hand settling on Gawain's hip to keep him flush against him. He feels almost overwhelmed by sensation, leaving him with almost no room for thought beyond how good it all felt. 

Gawain pulls away after a moment, resting his forehead against Lancelot's. "Can I touch you?" He asks. 

"Where?" 

Gawain presses his thigh against his cock in answer. 

Lancelot closes his eyes with a soft groan. "Yes," he whispers shakily, hoping he wouldn't get hit with another memory. 

Gawain surprises him with a kiss, and Lancelot keeps him there, gasping softly when he feels Gawain's hand wrap around his cock. Gawain strokes him slow and firm, allowing him to adjust to the new sensation, and his toes curl in pleasure, soft dirt from bottom of the lake getting caught between them. 

Lancelot moans softly then starts kissing him again, trusting Gawain knew what he was doing. His own hand slides from Gawain's ass to the skin underneath, stroking it lightly with his middle finger. He wants to memorize every inch of Gawain's skin. 

Gawain steadily strokes him faster, his hand starting to twist and pull, and tease the head, his thumb dragging particularly rough against the slit and making him squirm. Lancelot has to pull away from Gawain's mouth and rest his forehead against his shoulder, breathing too hard to keep kissing him. 

"Feel good?" Gawain asks.

"Y...yes." Lancelot answers with a low groan, nuzzling heavily into him as he feels cum start to leak out of him. He feels almost feverish, skin too warm, and thoughts alluding him. His hand grips Gawain's hip tightly, and his hand clutches at Gawain's thigh. 

Gawain kisses the top of his head, stroking his hair with his free hand. "I've got you," he murmurs. 

Lancelot kisses at his collarbone, his arousal racing towards its peak with each stroke, and he feels tears in his eyes because he's never felt this good before. He's never known a touch of genuine kindness or given soley for his pleasure and it all felt too good to be true. 

_"You're a filthy, wretched little creature stained with sin," Father Carden had said when they were back in the tents. "I know not to expect much from your kind, but touching yourself? In a holy camp no less?"_

_"I'm sorry, Father," he'd said, tears staining his cheeks._

_"If it happens again, I will burn you along with your Fey brethren, understood?"_

Lancelot tenses, the memory not enough to break through the haze of his arousal, but enough to give his tears a reason to fall. He opens his eyes, the burn of them too much and sees the head of his cock bobbing above the water, Gawain's hand working it furiously. He comes soon after, watching Gawain a little too much for him. 

Gawain strokes him through his orgasm, his other hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. Lancelot pants heavily, moving his hands up to Gawain's sides as he lifts his head. 

Gawain furrows his brow, cupping Lancelot's face, his thumbs wiping away his tears. "What's wrong?"

"I don't deserve this," he says miserably.

Gawain's expression softens at that. "You deserve pleasure, and love, and all the things the Paladins took from you. A man cannot thrive in only violence and be expected to know what paradise is."

Lancelot cries harder at that, soaking in the affection Gawain gives him, and allowing the other man to pull him into a tight hug. He insists he doesn't deserve to know love or pleasure, and Gawain argues he does, but it isn't until Gawain says, "Violence doesn't have to be your legacy, love can be," that he starts to settle. 

He can learn to be someone who deserves to be happy, he can be much more than he was raised to be, much more than a warrior or a weapon. He can truly know the difference between kindness and hatred because he will be love and nobility. 

And he'll start with Gawain. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was semi-enjoyable!


End file.
